California, August 2015

My name is Jordan, or at least that's what I think. I'm a nineteen-year-old who finds solace in solitude. Loneliness has become a constant companion, as I prefer to keep my distance from others. Growing up, I've lived with my mother, never knowing the presence of my father, a topic she intentionally avoids. As I prepare to embark on my journey to university, a wave of sadness washes over me. I can't quite explain why, but the heaviness is palpable. Battling anxiety and other mental demons, I seek refuge in sleeping pills, though they often leave me feeling like a lifeless zombie.

This afternoon, drained and wasted, I hear someone calling my name. Yet, I lack the strength to extricate myself from the weight of my existence. In a barely audible murmur, I utter the word "mom," and she rushes to my side, bearing news of my acceptance into NYU. Although I'm unable to express any emotion, she places the acceptance letter on my bedside table and tenderly kisses my forehead. 

Numbness engulfs every fiber of my being, longing to feel anything at all. Occasionally, the pills wear off, allowing me fleeting moments of vitality, but for the most part, I'm a hollow vessel. My heart, soul, and passion have been shattered by the world around me. In many ways, I am already dead, devoid of spirit.

California, September 2015

Today feels different somehow. Surprisingly, I haven't taken the pills, which may be the reason for this newfound vitality. And then it hits me—I'm heading to New York to pursue my craft, to immerse myself in the world of acting. The irony is not lost on me. How can someone so lifeless, so devoid of emotions, aspire to become an actor? My mother drives me to the train station, handing me my ticket. It's becoming real now. I can feel my hands trembling, my heart racing. It's a sensation I haven't experienced in a long time. Overwhelmed by this surge of emotions, I struggle to comprehend it.

- Jordan, you are an incredible son, and I have no doubt you will achieve great success. Never forget me, my beautiful son.

- Mom, your kindness knows no bounds, and I could never forget you. You're my best friend, and I will always love you.

- Goodbye.

Though I yearn to cry, I hold back, not wanting to add to my mother's pain. Her tears flow freely as I board the train, tearing me apart. Finding my seat, I glance out the window, catching sight of my mother, sobbing like a protective hen. It shatters me to pieces. How will we survive without each other? She was truly my closest companion.As the train departs, I try to locate solace in my assigned spot, but my chest aches with the weight of the separation. I gaze out the window, watching my mother until she disappears from view. It feels as though another part of me dies with her.

Here I am, on a train bound for New York—a city that both excites and terrifies me. The thought of living alone in a bustling metropolis, especially one known as the Big Apple, fills me with fear. They call it the city of dreams, and now I'm calling it home. I can only hope that this city won't chew me up and spit me out.